The Fairest Shield
by Strigi
Summary: Runa Fair-Shield never thought she would live to see the day that she would regret being adopted by the Dragonborn. However, playing the pivotal role as the rebellious teenager has Runa resisting the Dragonborn's widespread wealth and influence as she strives to make a name for herself in the Companions and rule the matters of her own heart without her adopted mother's iron rules.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello! This is another story idea I've had kicking around for a while. This will be a somewhat lengthy project, so if you decide to pick this up, please bear with me. The route I have taken is making Runa Fair-Shield (one of the adoptable children in Hearthfire) the protagonist here. She is an older teenager, and in order to make this story make sense, I have adjusted the age of a few characters to fit my needs. Even so, please be warned of some mild May/December pairings. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **The Fairest Shield**  
 _Chapter One_

* * *

Runa Fair-Shield had been a girl not wholly unfamiliar with a life of privilege and luxury. She was orphaned at a young age when her parents had been killed by an untimely bout of Brain Rot, which Runa had always suspected was the work of a particularly malicious hagraven, not that she was in any position to do anything about it as she was shipped off to Honorhall Orphanage on the next carriage. Despite the continuous onslaught of abuse and neglect of the orphanage's matron, Grelod the Kind, Runa had been allowed to maintain her family surname and she survived Honorhall Orphanage and its wicked matron with thanks mostly due to her innate strength, cunning, and endurance. In fact, she had been the main driving force to convince Aventus Arentino to escape and perform the Black Sacrament.

The combined prayers and the sacrament was answered. Grelod the Kind was no more.

Constance rightfully took over the orphanage and opened Honorhall's doors for prospective parents immediately.

Runa watched all the potential parents with a critical eye. She hated being in the orphanage, yes, but she would not settle for anything less than a life she deserved. And finally, her time came.

When Alduin was defeated and the final vestiges of Skyrim's civil war had ended, the renowned Dragonborn had decided it was time to settle into the quiet domestic life in the countryside with her new husband. Word spread like rabid dragonfire that the Dragonborn had her eyes set on adopting.

When she came to Honorhall, Runa presented herself in full title, stood as straight as she could, and promised she would not disappoint. The Dragonborn looked intrigued, her eyes flashing as if she recognized a kindred spirit in Runa, a spirit willing and able to fight and conquer. There was no hesitation on the Dragonborn's part. She quickly chose Runa Fair-Shield.

The Dragonborn's husband, a Companion named Farkas, had his pick next. Farkas desired a boy, and impressed with one child's battle-lion roar, Hroar became Runa's brother within the next moment. Runa and Hroar quickly went to pack their meager possessions, and were carted off once more to the Dragonborn's favorite summer home, Lakeview Manor.

Runa Fair-Shield was not disappointed with her new life. She thrived under the Dragonborn's tutelage, who was rich and had a home in nearly every hold. They would move occasionally, but Runa was once again privileged with a life of luxury. Her new mother had even taken to training her in combat and other skills, such as blacksmithing and a bit of alchemy. Hroar, though a Nord boy of simple taste, surprisingly found himself drawn to the arcane arts, which, as would have it, the Dragonborn was not only Harbinger of the Companions, but also Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. Their mother was a master in every skill it would seem, her widespread influence over Skyrim undeniable. She also taught Hroar in the magical arts.

The wealth of her mother knew no bounds, but despite visiting the holds, it would seem that Lakeview Manor remained a favorite, and they almost always would return for the summer to its buzzing insects and sparkling waters across the way.

As time passed, Runa found herself gifted with the war axe and often dreamed of joining the Companions as her mother, father, and Uncle Vilkas all had. She practiced with her war axe every day. She would be great like her mother.

But, it would seem, that Runa Fair-Shield's weakness was her heart.

A sign of a wealthy family was usually determined by the presence of a steward. They were not wholly uncommon in Skyrim. Carriage drivers were moreso. And even rarer was a household bard. A bard was typically paid in predetermined stipends, given room and board, and meals free of charge, at least the bards of the Dragonborn enjoyed such a life. The Dragonborn had three bards for each of her manors. There was Oriella of Heljarchen Manor and Sonir of Windstad Manor. But because they stayed at Lakeview so much, that made Llewellyn the Nightingale the Dragonborn's favorite.

And, as it happened, he was also Runa's favorite.

Llewellyn was young for a bard and hired just when Runa turned twelve. He became a permanent installation of Lakeview just like Rayya and Gunjar. When Runa turned sixteen, she found herself lingering at the dinner table or in doorways whenever she heard him singing or strumming on his lute. She stared at him for much longer than she used to.

And he began noticing those stares.

He might have been a younger bard, but he still eclipsed Runa in age. When she was sixteen, he would often unwittingly return her unfocused stares before catching himself and tearing his gaze away, as if recalling the impropriety of such a scandal. But with every time he turned away, his cheeks would redden just a bit brighter.

By the time she was seventeen, his good sense of propriety had been dashed. He became brave, bold even. He invited her on innocent rides through the forest where they would lie in wildflower glens. He would sing to her as the brilliant sun warmed their skin. She would feel the ghost of his fingertips tracing her shoulders and arms. Runa would close her eyes, relishing in the warmth.

Even so, the rides would never been enough to compel Llewellyn to brave anything more. This left Runa largely dissatisfied, but she didn't complain much.

In the middle of her seventeenth summer, the Dragonborn was called to urgent business in Solitude. Runa returned one afternoon after her ride with Llewellyn to discover Rayya quickly and efficiently packing their things as Gunjar helped load their trunks into the carriage.

Runa watched the busy scene before her, feeling her heart cracking at the idea of a robbed summer with Llewellyn who had went ahead to Falkreath to buy a shipment of soul gems Hroar was expecting before returning home.

"What's this, Mother?" Runa asked quietly entering the bedroom.

The Dragonborn turned suddenly, as if lost in deep thought. She blinked at Runa and offered a distracted smile. "Elisif has requested my presence. She would not explain why in her letter. I do not expect we will be gone long, though."

Runa inwardly crumbled. So was the busy life of the Dragonborn, always called to some business or other. Mother could promise that the excursion wouldn't be long, but the promise was usually empty. "Solitude?" she said. "But it's the summer. We usually stay here."

The Dragonborn reached for Runa's hands. "I know, my love. But I'm afraid I really must go."

Runa sighed, her eyes cutting to the side, quickly thinking. "Can't I stay here instead while you're gone? You said yourself that it was almost time for my trial in the Companions. I'd rather finish my training here than in the snow."

The Dragonborn's eyes flashed peculiarly, but she was pretty adept at restraining her impatience. Mother, for all of her generosity and compassion, never liked being questioned or challenged. "Don't be silly. It doesn't snow in Solitude in the summer. It's not Windhelm or Dawnstar."

"It'll still be cold," Runa continued pouting. "Can't I please stay here?"

Mother shifted her weight to her other foot. It was at that moment that Hroar entered the room and joined the conversation. "Yes, I'd like to stay here too. I'd rather get one last warm summer in before going off to the College." He stretched out on his bed, and his tall, lanky frame hung over the mattress. He looked entirely too big for it.

The sight was enough to make Mother smile. "Oh, all right. Both of you can stay here while I finish my business in Solitude. Though, I will certainly miss the both of you." She hugged Runa tight then. "I don't mean to make you unhappy by taking you with me. I just enjoy your company."

Runa returned the hug fiercely. "Thank you, Mother," she said in earnest.

Mother and Father left on the carriage the next morning. Runa waved goodbye to them from above the armory. Hroar had elected to sleep in.

Runa watched the carriage disappear over the hills. Meanwhile, she could see Llewellyn in the stables, saddling Frost for their ride. Runa's heart surged as she ran back inside. Rayya was busy at the hearth, preparing breakfast.

"Rayya, don't worry about me. I'm just going to grab a slice of bread and then go riding today." Rayya nodded, grumbling something under her breath about how Hroar would eat enough for both of them. She ran to the bedroom she shared with Hroar to quickly lace up her boots.

Hroar, to her surprise, was awake, watching her carefully. "I know what you're doing."

She froze but did not return his gaze. "What are you talking about?" She attempted to sound nonplussed but now her heart was racing.

Hroar straightened. "Don't worry. No one else has noticed yet. But you should be careful. Mother might not be too happy to find out."

Runa looked at him evenly. "Find out about what?"

"Don't play stupid. You and Llewellyn."

"What about me and Llewellyn?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"You know what. You both go riding at the same time. Any idiot could figure it out if they just _looked_ at the two of you together."

"Oh please," she hissed, face suddenly reddening. "You think Mother would be angry? It's common knowledge that she's cheated on Father with Uncle Vilkas."

Hroar gave a careless shrug. "Maybe, maybe not. I wouldn't point that out to her, of course. Take care of yourself, Runa. She pays Llewellyn to sing, not to bed her daughter."

She waved him off, disappearing outside. But her steps turned timid with trepidation. Her nervousness completely vanished when she saw Llewellyn waiting for her, Frost's reins in his hands.

Their ride that day was longer, venturing deeper into the forest. They found an abandoned, crumbling tower, free of roaming bandits and animals, secured the horses to a post, and ventured inside. The tower had perhaps been once a guardpost, given the remaining frames of the furniture. The staircase leading to the roof was still intact and they scaled it to look at the lush green forest around them.

Runa laughed breathlessly, and Llewellyn set his lute aside. Without the ever-present shadow of the Dragonborn nearby, he became even bolder. Her cradled her face and they shared their first kiss.

It wasn't anything like she imagined it would have been. It was fierce and intense. His mouth crushed against hers in breathless heat. She could feel his body pressing against hers, and it seemed to swallow her whole. He held nothing back this time, and she willingly gave him anything he asked for.

The Dragonborn was called away for weeks. Runa and Llewellyn met for their tryst every day in the tower. They were careful every minute they were in Lakeview Manor, under Hroar's watchful eyes. But it was hard to deny the innate magnetism she felt toward him. She would be drawn to every room he occupied. Her hand would twitch toward his. Rayya would ask about her training, and Runa would supply her with fake narratives. Hroar said nothing else to her, but his eyes would always glare in suspicion in frequent moments.

But Runa did not care. She fell in love with Llewellyn.

One day after a few weeks, Runa was panting against his sweaty side, his arm curled around her back. Then he said the fateful words, "I want to marry you."

She eagerly accepted. And they decided to run away and elope that night. They would return to Lakeview to pack a few things.

When they rounded the corner of Pinewatch, however, they discovered that the Dragonborn had returned to Falkreath. Llewellyn tensed at her side, and she stroked his hand with her thumb. "This doesn't change anything," she reminded him sternly.

He nodded, but it was stiff. She was suddenly unconvinced of his resolve but pressed on. They disengaged their hands and continued inside.

Mother regaled them with news of Solitude over dinner. Runa forced the mechanical nods at the appropriate intervals. Llewellyn, meanwhile, refused to look at her as he sang _The Dragonborn Comes_ when Rayya served them sides of beef.

Runa continued the plan. In the small hours before dawn, she arose and quietly gathered a few things before creeping outside to the stables. The darkness seemed to permeate everything. And it took a little bit for Runa to navigate the short distance. Once she made it, she felt around for her saddle.

A spell was suddenly cast, illuminating the shadows of the stables. Magelight. The horses protested in surprise.

Mother was standing there, looking all powerful in her tall stature and thoroughly unhappy. Llewellyn was standing in front of her, head hanging in shame, refusing to look at Runa.

"Runa, please tell me what is happening," the Dragonborn ordered smoothly.

Runa stood her ground. "We're getting married."

"You're running away?" she clarified in a sharper voice.

Runa said nothing. Her silence was confirmation enough, as was the incriminating evidence before them.

"Did you think I would not approve?" Mother challenged icily. Everything in her voice and body language suggested that she would not. "You would be correct." She turned to Llewellyn. "I pay you handsomely, give you a bed and food in your belly. And this is how you repay me?"

Llewellyn said nothing.

She turned to Runa, her fury shining in full force. "And _you_. I adopt you from the slums of Skyrim. I feed you and put the clothes on your back. I've trained you and equipped you with knowledge and tools that normal people can never dream of. And this is how _you repay me_?"

"It's not about repaying you," Runa countered weakly. "It's not even about you. I love him. He loves me. This is about us, not you."

"You love each other?" The Dragonborn laughed then in a shrill voice Runa had never heard before, showing a cruel facet of her personality. "You're a silly girl. You don't know the first thing about love. And _you_ —you see a pretty maid and you think you can take her for yourself?"

"Mother, stop!" Runa exclaimed. "This is enough. Please, just let us go."

Mother's mouth curled into a smile full of malice. "Fine, have it your way." She looked at Llewellyn the Nightingale. "I give you a choice, sir. It would be in your best interest to choose wisely. I will continue to employ your services here at Lakeview Manor, but you must renounce this silly claim of marrying my daughter. You must deny any sort of scandal or dalliance occurred. You are to forget her entirely and pretend that she is nothing more than a ghost of a shadow and never speak a single word to her. _Or_ you are free to leave and pursue your dreams of marrying Runa. However, in doing so, you are breaking your contract. Not only will you stop receiving your pay, you will be no longer welcome at Lakeview Manor. And, as per your contract, you would owe me every single gold coin that I've paid you in the time you've worked here. That's five years' worth of salary that you would be in debt, and that's no way to start a married life. So, what will it be, Llewellyn?"

Runa's chest was tight, and her stomach churned. The passion of the past several weeks was ever-present against her flushed skin, even in that moment. She hoped, she prayed to Talos and Dibella and Mara that Llewellyn similarly remembered their time together in that moment. They could pay back the exorbitant debt. They could make it together. They could. They would.

They wouldn't.

He closed his eyes, and his voice shook. "I'm sorry, Runa." His decision was made.

Mother's next smile turned victorious. "Now, go back inside, Runa. I will decide what to do with you later."

The heat of the memory of the passion she had shared with Llewellyn turned into rage. Her face boiled. "No, this is ridiculous! You can't do this to him! You can't do this to us! You can't do this to _me_!" He voice turned pleading on the last word. Tears sprang to her eyes and threatened to spill over.

Mother was not to be merciful that night. "I can do this and I am. I am his employer, and I am _your mother_."

Runa's teeth ground together. "No, you're not. You're _not_ my mother, not my real mother. You're some proud champion that decided to fill the bill for your charity work. I am Runa Fair-Shield, and you are _not_ a Fair-Shield."

The Dragonborn's eyes flashed angrily, storm clouds brewing in the brightness reflected in the magelight. "So be it then. If I am not your mother, then get off of my property. Leave, Runa Fair-Shield, for you are no longer welcome here or in any house of mine."

Runa, just now realizing the consequences of her words, panicked. "No, wait, please—"

"I said leave, Runa Fair-Shield. And never come back."

And Runa Fair-Shield left.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Fairest Shield**  
 _Chapter Two_

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The road to Whiterun was long when taken on foot, passing through Riverwood and continuing north. Luckily, Runa had already packed a few meager possessions. Luckily, she still had the clothes on her back and her ebony axe swinging from her belt loop.

But as she trudged through the heavy summer rain, Runa did not dwell upon these good fortunes that she had been blessed with. Her heart had been shattered and she had lost her home and her family in one fell swoop of misplaced pride.

Whiterun had been much farther than she had anticipated without a horse or carriage. She didn't have a single septim to her name, so there was no question of her stopping in Riverwood or other inn for the night. But Runa would not be deterred. She could make it on her own, even in the face of such humiliation.

By the time she passed through Whiterun's gates, dusk had begun to settle the rolling hillside. The guards let her through without even so much as a secondary glance. Without the looming shadow of the Dragonborn, the noble Thane of Whiterun, she resumed her place as a faceless nobody. A nobody would not enjoy the Dragonborn's favor.

With little other choice, Runa approached Breezehome, pounding away at its door. This went against the Dragonborn's express commands, of course, but Runa would try one moment of swallowing her pride just to not sleep in the gutter.

Shortly, her knocks and prayers were answered. Breezehome's steward appeared in the doorway, and Runa thought she might cry at the sight of Lydia.

"Runa?" Lydia was stunned. "What are you doing here?"

Runa could only wonder if Lydia had discovered her fall from grace. She hoped she had beat any courier her mother might have sent. "I'm sorry, Lydia," she said, having difficulty holding back her tears. "I didn't know where else to turn."

A conflict brewed beneath Lydia's face, and Runa quickly learned why. "I've just received a letter from your mother."

Runa's heart sank. The tears leaked of their own accord. "Please, Lydia."

Lydia eyed the summer rain and Runa's shivering form. Then finally, mercifully, she gave into pity. "Come inside, Runa. Tell me what's happened."

When the Dragonborn was in her adventuring prime, Lydia had been bestowed upon her as her first housecarl, a gift from Jarl Balgruuf for defeating the dragon at the Western Watchtower. As such, Lydia and the Dragonborn became the closest of friends, and Lydia had settled into her own room at Breezehome as its steward. It was the highest honor the Dragonborn could bestow upon her dearest friend. As the years passed, when the Dragonborn settled down, married her husband, and adopted children, Lydia became affectionately referred to as 'Auntie Lydia' by both Runa and Hroar.

And as bid, Runa told Lydia everything, from her intense romance with Llewellyn to the heartbreaking words she had thrown into the Dragonborn's face. Honesty was the best course of action with Lydia. Though the steward would never think to defy the wishes of the Dragonborn, she would always have a weak spot for the children.

When Runa finished her tale, Lydia leaned back and sighed. "Oh Runa."

"I know, I've done an awful thing."

"Runa, your mother… Look, I know she is not your flesh and blood. She can be difficult to read, often cold and distant to others. She can seem ruthless, she certainly has that capacity, but that came with the responsibility of being Dragonborn. Your mother didn't choose that power. It was bestowed upon her, and given every trial she's endured, she's turned out fairly well. We are all in her debt. Everyone in Skyrim.

"That being said. She may not share your blood, but she willingly sacrificed her blood and soul to build this wonderful life of safety and opportunity for you. She _chose_ you and your brother. She chose to love you, and that's the deepest love I've ever seen."

"If she loves me so much, why does she insist on breaking my heart? Forcing me and Llewellyn apart?"

A brief moment of anger flashed through the steward. "Runa, you were going to run away. Leave your mother forever for a bard who can't keep his pants buttoned. You were going to throw away everything your mother has done for you on a man-child who would deflower you and prove faithless in the end over his debts. Runa, your mother was protecting you. She did you a favor by showing you his true colors. Llewellyn the Nightingale does not deserve you, and she proved it."

Runa buried her face in her hands. "You're right. Of course you're right. I just don't know what to do."

"Why did you come to Whiterun? You mother has forbidden you from staying at any property."

"It would not matter if it was Whiterun, Markarth, or Riften. Mother's influence is everywhere in Skyrim. I could never leave her shadow, no matter how much I want to. Whiterun was the closest and it's home to Jorrvaskr. I have always planned to join the Companions."

"You can't escape her shadow there either. You know she's the Harbinger."

Runa lifted her face and did not respond.

"Look, I shouldn't be doing this. You can stay in Breezehome until your Trial. I won't tell your mother, but if she comes to Whiterun, I'm afraid you'll have to go somewhere else. You'll have to find work in the meantime. And you must do one thing in return."

"Anything," Runa promised quickly.

"It seems as though you understand your mistake. Your mother will not stay mad at you forever. An opportunity will come for you to apologize. You must. And forget everything about Llewellyn the Nightingale."

Runa's shoulders sagged in resignation, but she reluctantly accepted her fate if it meant a dry bed that night. "I will."

The rain had stopped the next morning, and her search for employment began at Jorrvasker with Uncle Vilkas. He was in the training yard, overseeing the sparring of two new Companions. When he noticed Runa approaching, the sparring recruits were immediately forgotten as he closed the distance to meet her, embracing her in a fierce hug and spinning her around.

"Dearest niece! What an honor! By Ysgramor, I can feel those taut muscles in your arms. You've been training, I can tell."

She offered him a demure smile. "Uncle, I have a favor to ask."

His eyes tightened, and she knew that Vilkas had received the same letter as Lydia. "Does this have anything to do with your mother?"

There were stories that the Dragonborn, Papa, and Uncle Vilkas would never repeat but circulated well enough on their own, especially in Whiterun. Especially in the halls of Jorrvaskr. When the striking young Nord shieldmaiden had first arrived on the doorstep of the ancient Hall of the Companions, the Wolf Brothers both actively courted her as she slowly rose through the ranks, first to the Circle and then as Harbinger. She openly flirted with all men, it would seem, and discourage no suitor. Farkas and Vilkas worked relentlessly on winning her heart.

It had been initially thought that Vilkas would be the victor when it came time for her to choose a spouse. Vilkas and the Dragonborn had shared a commonality in their keen intellect, something that Farkas would never comprehend despite his earnest intentions. Supposedly, her actions seem to suggest that she even favored Vilkas; everyone thought he would be selected as her husband.

But, as fate would have it, it seemed that the Dragonborn was fond of deceiving everyone. For reasons unknown to Runa, and the rest of Whiterun it would seem, the Dragonborn chose Farkas. The heartbreak of Vilkas could not be understood. Rumors insisted that he left Skyrim for a long time before finally returning. Others speculated that the Dragonborn enjoyed a romantic relationship with both brothers, despite the marriage.

One thing was evident—the decision did not mar the devotion Vilkas had for the Dragonborn. He actively took part in the lives of her adopted children, and would absolutely hear none of it when they would come to him complaining about her strict parenting.

So Runa was careful to avoid the sensitive subject of her mother. She knew she would not receive any sympathy from Vilkas. "Not exactly," she volunteered eventually. "I just need to find work. I was hoping you could help me. Maybe I could even join the Companions early?" she suggested hopefully.

Vilkas offered her a sympathetic smile. "Dear one, you know you cannot join until you are eighteen. Fear not, you've only until the end of the summer. In the meantime, I might be able to find some work for you. You can take this opportunity to explore the holds, build your experience, so you are not so green and wet."

She released a sigh. It was better than nothing. Another month and then she could finally join the Companions. "Do you have anything for me now?"

Vilkas regretfully shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Ask around town. The innkeeper usually keeps up with the Jarl's latest bounty offering. There's work here somewhere. You've just got to find it."

As it turned out, Runa discovered how difficult it was to find work as a hopeful, seventeen year old mercenary with no experience, especially as a girl. The Dragonborn had made great strides in breaking traditional gender roles, but without a chance to show off the strength of her arm, Runa found it difficult to find employment that wasn't cooking or cleaning.

Her first day of job searching proved unsuccessful. And so when she went to bed that night, she tossed and turned fitfully upon the straw mattress, unable to coax sleep.

She began her search the next morning before dawn, before Lydia even awoke. The gray streets of Whiterun were quiet in the wee hours of the summer morning. She passed by Brenuin, the old town drunk, snoozing under a bench, and she affirmed to herself that she would not end up like that.

Runa wanted to prove her determination to find work by roaming the streets at such an early. But any potential employers were not to be found. The streets were deserted as ever. Runa stopped by the Gildergreen, staring at the pink flowerbuds hopelessly.

"What ails you, my child?" interrupted a gentle voice.

Runa started, just now noticing the Kynareth priestess standing next to her. Danica Pure-Spring. She quickly recovered and shared her toils with the priestess. "I am trying to find work."

"You are trying to find work," Danica repeated in her austere, mystical voice. It wasn't a question so much as a confirmation of knowledge. "And so you have come to the Gildergreen to seek wisdom?"

"I came here this early to see if work needed to be done. But no one is even up at this hour. I thought the farmers or the shopkeepers might be up at least, preparing for the day."

"It is often true that the hardest laborers rise earliest to greet the day. But Whiterun sleeps, except Danica Pure-Spring who has come to pray at the Gildergreen as she does every morning before dawn."

Runa said nothing, familiar with Danica's fondness for old proverbs and speaking in metaphors.

"Kyne says says to use Nature's gifts wisely. Respect her power, and fear her fury. Why do you seek work, child?"

"Why does anyone seek work?" Runa countered, unable to help the scathing bitterness in her voice. "To live."

"And what do you live for, young one?" Danica turned to her, and her penetrating eyes seem to cut through Runa right to the core.

Danica continued. "Come to me, Kynareth, for without you, I might not know the mysteries of the world, and so blind and in terror, I might consume and profane the abundance of your beautiful treasures."

For an instant, Runa thought she could see Danica's brilliant green eyes illuminate with an unseen light. But the moment was quickly over.

"Do not be deceived the worldly temptations around you, child. Kyne sees your spirit and blesses it. There is work for you in the temple, should you accept it."

Runa's relief at the offer eclipsed any unease she previously felt with Danica, and she followed the priestess to the temple. Despite the clean, white tile interior, the sick and ill crowded against the walls, around the pulpit and sanctuary. Runa couldn't help but stare. Danica stepped past them, careful not to trod upon her unfortunate patrons.

"Kynareth blesses the hunter," Danica said. "Her temple requires one."

"What sort of hunter?"

"The sort that hunts for necessity and survival, not like the greedy merchants in the marketplace. A rabbit or elk to feed the poor, not much. The Jarl grants the temple a hunting permit and you will be paid a modest sum. It is not much, I admit, but it is work."

And so Runa accepted the position. She had hunted a few times with Papa to practice her archery, but that had been mostly on wolves and foxes that had strayed too close to the chicken coop. Runa had never hunted for the sake of food before.

But it was a skill she was willing to hone and sharpen as she roamed the plains of Whiterun hold. It took an enormous amount of patience and a surprising amount of control over her breathing and movements. Admittedly, her first few days of hunting were not quite so successful, as she brought back bloody rabbit carcasses too mangled to be eaten. But she was diligent and dauntless.

She slowly improved in the days that followed. Her hunts would begin before dawn touched the sky with light and end long after the sun had passed over Tamriel. A few times, she did not even return to Whiterun at night, too busy or too far away tracking her prey. But she got better.

She didn't use her axe much now, something she lamented since she no longer had time to practice her sword arm. She still brought it with her on the plains, should she need to cut firewood for overnight hunting trips.

Danica had been honest when she had said the pay was modest. But it was enough. Whenever Runa wasn't camping out on the plains, she surreptitiously remained at Breezehome, unbeknownst to Whiterun's denizens. But the septims Danica gave her were enough for a night's hot meal and a loaf of bread to carry with her on the plains. She slowly started saving up for an iron cuirass.

It was not the life of luxury she had been so familiar with. But it was enough. It was quite and peaceful. It left Runa to sort out her muddled thoughts concerning her mother the Dragonborn and Llewellyn the Nightingale, her future at Whiterun and with the Companions. It saw her through the summer, affording her an appreciation for her newfound patience and pensiveness. It was enough.

Then one day, the slow and steady living was interrupted by an unexpected bout of excitement and change. The wind in Whiterun shifted and carried Vilkas with it as he approached her just outside the temple.

She had just dropped off a string of rabbits for Danica, her bloodstained fingers pocketing the few coins it offered. Meager but modest. A living she appreciated and did not mock. When she looked up, Vilkas was hurrying down the steps of Jorrvaskr, his grin wide.

"Runa! I'm glad I found you!"

Her passion had cooled during her time on the plains. She offered him a soft, demure smile in greeting. "Uncle! What is it?"

"I know the summer isn't out yet, but I've finally found a job for you," he confided as he drew close, steering her away from the Gildergreen plaza.

Her patience shimmered with a flicker of indecision, a flare of intrigue. "What sort of job?"

"Pest extermination." He quickly held up his hands before she could make a face or comment. "I know. It's not big or glorious. But it's something. It'll help you get the experience you need. It'll put your name out there.

But Runa found she was not critical with the offer. "Where at? What sort of pest?"

Her reaction seemed to surprise Vilkas, as if the stubborn, fiery girl he had known since youth had much changed before him. "So you accept? That was much easier than I expected. Has the Temple humbled you these past few weeks?"

She gave a noncommittal shrug. "Perhaps it has."

Vilkas nodded carefully, passing her a scroll with the specific details. "Very well. It's a homestead near Rorikstead. You are familiar with Rorikstead, yes? Something living in a cave in the woods, probably a skeever. Be careful; you can never be certain about such beasts."

Runa nodded, accepting the scroll. "I'll take care of it."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Fairest Shield** _  
_ _Chapter Three_

* * *

Runa first went to the temple to inform Danica of her expected absence. If the priestess was disappointed, she did not express it but instead, she did wish Runa luck on her ventures.

"Should you need it, there will always be a place for you at the temple."

The next step was stopping at Breezehome, packing a few possessions and saying goodbye to Lydia who was poring over a letter that consumed all of her attention. It was as if she didn't hear Runa entering the room, starting when Runa approached.

"Lydia? Uncle Vilkas has a job for me. I'll be going to Rorikstead for a few days."

Lydia quickly hid the letter. "Rorikstead? What's the job?"

"Pest extermination. Probably a skeever."

"Be careful. Your birthday is coming up quickly. Your mother will be visiting Whiterun soon for your Trial."

Runa frowned, expecting Lydia to be a bit more excited for her about this opportunity. "What's the letter?"

Lydia, a fearsome Nord warrior, was not adept at skills of speechcraft or lying. Her visible squirm let Runa know she had accurately pinpointed the source of Lydia's distraction and discomfort. "It's a housing notice," Lydia revealed at length. "I'm to prepare the house for occupancy within a few days. Like I said, your mother will be arriving soon."

Runa couldn't help but feel a bit suspicious. "How does she know to come for my Trial? I haven't even spoken to the Circle yet."

"For goodness' sake, Runa," Lydia said exasperatedly. "She's your mother. She knows when your birthday is. She knows how stubborn and determined you are to join the Companions." Lydia paused, rubbing her lips together. "You should use this opportunity whenever you complete your Trial; you should swallow your pride and apologize."

Runa's temper flared, and Lydia's suggestion made her want to do the exact opposite, despite the fact that Runa had shared the same sentiment when she had first arrived in Whiterun. She elected to not comment on the matter. "I'll stay with Danica at the temple when I get back," she decided.

Lydia agreed that that was a good idea.

Her meager possessions packed, her shield draped on her back, and waraxe belted at her side, Runa set off for Rorikstead. The day was bright and almost warm, warm enough for a Skyrim summer in the plains. An occasional breeze from High Hrothgar shifted the wild grain and flowers on the plains. Runa passed the Western Watchtower of Whiterun Hold, an inevitable landmark on the road to Rorikstead. There had been a time when the Watchtower had crumbled to pieces, shaken at its foundations with the destructive force of a dragon, no less.

And of course, Runa had heard the endless tales of its savior, the happenstance hero that had marched out of the ashes of Helgen. The Dragonborn. Her mother dearest.

Runa found herself frowning at the sight of it. Of course it had been rebuilt anew by now, polished stone gleaming in the sunlight, the guards standing vigilant at their duty, probably even funded by the benevolent Dragonborn herself. She could not deny her mother's influence across the expanse of Skyrim, but there was something Runa found unsettling about it. Could she not stake out her own life? Would she require the Dragonborn's approval for everything? Would everyone end up as Llewellyn, cowering at the heels of her mother? Would she find no one untainted by the Dragonborn's shadow?

Having no answer to any of these questions, Runa marched on the long road to Rorikstead and tried not to think of Llewellyn the Nightingale.

She walked the entire day and late into the night before she finally made it at the edge of the farming community. Her hunts had made her used to walking so much, but now her iron boots pressed painfully against her sore feet with fresh blisters. She eagerly hurried to Frostfruit Inn, deciding that she would find the homestead that hired her in the morning.

The inn was deliciously warm and smelled of roasted goat. Runa did her best not to hungrily look about the smoking braziers and weary travelers and made a beeline for the counter. She could have camped in some rock crevice outside Rorikstead, as she usually did on her hunts, but Runa decided she could indulge in a single night of luxury.

"One bed for the night, please," she said, avoiding the innkeeper's eyes as she searched for her coin purse.

"Fifty gold."

Runa nearly staggered at the price, recalling why she did not often stay at inns since leaving the Dragonborn's favor. She worked at keeping her expression even as she counted out the coins and slid them across the counter. But the innkeeper must have caught sight of her shock and took some measure of pity.

"It comes with a hot meal and a fresh mug of ale," he said as he accepted her money.

"Thank you," she said in earnest.

"Have a seat over there. I'll get you a plate. Erik!"

She gratefully slid into the closest seat and shrugged off her pack, just now noticing how sore her shoulder was from the weight. She massaged it slowly as the innkeeper summoned a young man from the back rooms.

"Get this young lady some dinner."

The man nodded, disappeared, and shortly reappeared with the plate and mug. When he set them down on the table in front of Runa, she noticed his wide smile. "What brings you to Rorikstead?" he asked.

She was too hungry to care about eating in front of this stranger, ripping the slice of meat into strips with her fingers and popping them into her mouth. "Someone's nosy," she observed in a light voice between mouthfuls.

"Just curious. We don't get many visitors this late at night, at least not _boring_ visitors."

She watched him for a moment, chewing carefully, thoughtfully. He had honey gold hair and dark stubble covering his face. He couldn't' have been more than ten years older than her yet his eyes were wide like a child's, his voice innocently inquisitive. Admittedly, he was rather cute. "Still nosy," she pointed out, smiling, her cheeks puffed out and full of food.

He took the liberty of sitting directly in front of her. "Tell me to sod off then, and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."

"What about tomorrow too?"

"You're too pretty to stay away from tonight _and_ tomorrow."

Runa couldn't help but laugh at the cheeky compliment, covering her mouth as her shoulders shook. The innkeeper glanced apprehensively at his son. "Erik, don't you think you should let our guest relax?"

Runa intervened on Erik's behalf, not quite wanting to be left alone just yet. It was the first time she had laughed liked that since…

Well, since Llewellyn.

"He's fine. I don't mind the company."

Erik's smile somehow reached his eyes. His father looked dubious but returned to clearing tables.

"So you were just about to tell me why you're here in Rorikstead, of all places," Erik pressed.

"I hate to disappoint, but I'm afraid it is rather boring."

Erik slapped the table and leaned back in his chair. "I knew it. You're just here to scope out potato and wheat prices like everyone else."

Runa laughed again and took a draught of her ale before answering. "I'm doing work for the Companions."

Erik looked rather impressed. "You're a Companion?"

"Not quite. Not yet. My uncle is, though, and he's helping me find odd jobs before my Trial."

"Still more exciting than a potato farmer."

"I think anything is more exciting than a potato farmer," she pointed out.

This time Erik laughed, and it was a hearty, boisterous sound. It made the other patrons look in their direction, and suddenly, Runa looked down at her plate, inexplicably embarrassed. The innkeeper spoke up once more.

"Excuse me, miss. Erik, I could use your help in the kitchen."

Erik's shoulders suddenly slumped in disappointment, but he dutifully disappeared in the back once more. Runa lingered in the dining hall of the inn for as long as she dared, even after she had finished her food and ale. She had hoped to encounter Erik once more before the night was out, but her body protested to the late hour. She shuffled to her room but found sleep elusive as ever, replaying the too-brief conversation with Erik in her head.

At first, she didn't understand her fixation for him. He was attractive, indeed, and he had called her pretty; but it was not the first time she had encountered either. She had even been called beautiful for that matter.

Then, she realized, it was the first time someone had done so without the looming presence of her mother.

The bed was comfortable, but despite paying fifty gold for it, she had very little sleep. She woke up early, thinking innkeepers and their sons would also be up early.

But no. She was up early to finish the job as quickly as possible, return to Whiterun, and start her Trial. She dressed herself, repacked her things, and left her room. Mralki the innkeeper was up and about, preparing for a new day of business. She did her best to suppress the surge of disappointment she felt when she did not see Erik also about.

"You're up rather early, miss," he noted as she approached him, seemingly in better spirits than the night before.

She offered him a smile. "Would you be able to tell me where Lund's hut is?"

He did an odd thing then, rubbing his lips together as he considered her request. She nearly apologized for inconveniencing him when he looked over his shoulder and called out, "Erik! I've got a job for you."

She heard Erik's voice before she saw him. "Father, you know it's my day off—"

But he stopped short as soon as he caught sight of Runa standing next to his father.

"This lady needs to get to Lund's. Lend a hand, will you?" Mralki's smile almost seemed coy.

Erik didn't hesitated. "Of course. You ready to head out?"

Runa suddenly felt panic bubbling in her chest and she didn't know why. "I don't want to trouble you, especially on your off day. You could just give me directions instead of escorting me."

Erik waved off her concerns, already halfway out the door. "Nonsense," he called over his shoulder. "It's no trouble at all."

Runa hastily followed him outside.

The farmers of Rorikstead had also risen early to heed to their vocation, tilling the gardens and crop rows. She noticed Erik looking on their movements with absolutely no amount of envy. "I used to do that—farm. I was a farmhand for Lemkil."

"Was?" she inquired after politely.

Erik tore his gaze from the farmers. "Was," he affirmed. "It's not the life I wanted. I never caught your name."

"It's Runa. Do you and your father prefer being innkeepers?" Runa did not mean the question with any unkindness, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she chewed on her lower lip, realizing how the question might be perceived. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's all right," Erik said with a laugh. "We _are_ innkeepers. I don't find that insulting."

She had no response to that, so she remained silent, walking beside him. Her shield banged softly on her back with each step, keeping pace of their progress. Her boots scuffed heavily upon the road. She looked down, feeling herself out of place and awkward, and focused on these sounds of her mission instead of how to further muddle up conversation with a cute innkeeper.

They took the north road, winding through a high-rise canyon, a path that rolled with the varying elevations. Soon, the hamlet of Rorikstead was masked from their view. Then, Erik picked conversation back up. "So you say you're not a Companion yet," he ventured carefully.

"I will be soon," she assured him confidently.

"So why are you doing work for them now?"

"My uncle is a Companion. He was trying to find me work to build up my experience. I guess he picked up the contract first, or maybe no one else wanted it."

"Killing skeevers is an odd way to get experience," he mused.

"And you're an expert on combat experience?" she scoffed, looking at him from beneath her lashes.

She could have sworn that he puffed out his chest at that. "As a matter of fact, I do have some experience myself. I did some traveling a few years back, some mild adventuring back when dragons were sprouting up all over the place."

This took her aback, and she looked at him in shock. "Really?" she asked. She was admittedly impressed. "Did you ever fight a dragon?"

His expression looked pained. "Yes, really. And, no dragons, I'm afraid. But all I ever wanted to do was to adventure Skyrim. Fight the good battles. I even considered joining the Companions myself once the civil war ended."

"Why didn't you?" she asked eagerly, carefully. His past intrigue with the Companions made him inexplicably more appealing to her.

Erik looked away, shifting his weight to another foot. "Dad got sick. I hurried back to Rorikstead to look after him and help run the inn. He got better, of course, but I haven't done anything else since."

A unique shine flickered in Erik's eyes, and his voice turned wistful. "Maybe I didn't have the right drive. It's harder to pick something back up once you've put it down for so long."

"Maybe you just need the right inspiration," she suggested helpfully. "Come on."

Lund was an eccentric character, if nothing else. Runa entered his house, fully expecting to take down some skeevers. But as fate would have it, Lund kept skeevers as domesticated pets. _Three_ of them, in fact. He insisted that they were perfectly tame, but apparently Lund's definition of _tame_ included the skeevers taking refuge beneath the table and growling at Erik and Runa's presence the entire time they were there.

"I'm sorry," Runa said, her patience slipping. "I think there's been some confusion. I was told that this was a case of _pest extermination_. I'm not sure exactly what you wanted the Companions to do."

Lund was indignant. "Of course this is a case of pest extermination! I have _pests_ that need _exterminating_. There's these—these _barbarians._ They keep attacking my lovelies here. You must deal with them promptly!"

Runa folded her arms across her chest, tilted her head, and looked at this small sliver of a man. The numerous cuts and gashes on his fingers and arms told her that his _pets_ quite possibly made a habit of biting the hand that fed them.

But her uncle's words of caution rang through her head. Never question the client. Never _insult_ the client.

She sighed. "Where are these pests of yours, sir?"


End file.
